because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

urban farmhouse at twilight

there is the subtlest of breezes from full-flung windows where the world
comes in, dragging its day-end noises: settling birds, slowing traffic.
It smells still of dark coffee & morning-baked bread. someone
coughs. the last sighs of light reflect against glass and chrome;
shadows pool between the cobbles. a scrape of chairs as this place
slowly empties, we the dregs of what had been an over-full cup.
my wine is sweeter with every
swallow.

fluorescent heartbeat,
a new green pulses lamplit;
last lip-stained-glass kiss.

I read this a second time aloud, because I could sense that the alliteration and onomatopaeia of your verses – “full-flung windows where the world
comes in, dragging its day-end noises” – would taste wonderful on the tongue… and I was right! Excellent poem, and a beautiful display of craftsmanship.

These descriptions are so crisp. For me, they evoked a few summer months that I lived /studied in Paris a long while ago. The buildings so close to one another, open windows…you felt like you were intruding on the lives of others.